Coming Clean
by Shiva's Avatar
Summary: An evil genius, a flamboyant monk, and a bathtub … it’s an equation that always ends up equaling fluff. RaixJack slash


Coming Clean

By- Shiva's Avatar

Jack heaved a bored sigh as he sank deeper into the pleasantly warm water, watching a curl of steam fade into the air. He wasn't even sure why he indulged in this weekly pastime anymore. Looking over his "bathtub", an olympic sized swimming pool filled with an obscene amount of bubbles, he wondered what the xiaolin monks were up to. It had to be something more exciting then taking a bubble bath, after having spent the morning watching cartoons and munching down brand name cereal.

"Man, this is just too lame," the teen said to himself, heaving another sigh as he seriously considered just washing up and getting out. This little bathing ritual had all started as one of his nanny's clever tricks to get her rebellious charge to bathe … and granted, when Jack had been seven nothing could compete with the Saturday bubble bath. It was a rare chance when he could strap on a pair of arm floaties and doggie paddle through wave after wave of bubbles … the only downside being, that he had to subject his hair to his nanny's cruel hands. Pitilessly she would scrub that flaming mane clean of whatever paints he had been using, pulling the knots out with her talon like nails. Still though, that had seemed a small price to pay when he was seven … now that he was seventeen, and that nanny had long sense been fired, a quick shower just seemed to be a lot less monotonous, not to mention a more environmentally friendly, way to get clean.

Jack waved away a robotic minion when it floated by to offer him a small rubber duck, as he watched another of tendril of steam vanish into the air. He brushed some of his hair out of his face, sighed again, and wondered if there was anything good on TV.

"Wow, you're just as dull as the other guys," said a strong tenor, cutting through Jack's idle thoughts the same way the guillotine had slashed through French monarchs. Twirling around in the water, the self-proclaimed boy genius spotted Raimundo standing at the edge of his pool turned bathtub, giving Jack his typical cocky grin.

After a piercing shriek at being caught so indisposed, Jack wailed for his bathbots to attack, while he fled to a bubble rich area, hoping to hide as much of his body as he could beneath the fragile spheres.

Eight kicks, four punches, and three flips later, Raimundo was again giving Jack his patented grin, broken robot bits littering the tiled floor. Kneeling, Raimundo began to test the water a hand.

"Can I help you!" Jack growled, giving the other boy a caustic glare … a glare that would have been infinitely more effective had Jack not been blushing a bright red.

"Naw, bad as it sounds I was hoping you were doing something exciting and evil so that I could mess with it . You know, we could have an epic battle, I could kick your butt … a fun time would be had for all" Raimundo said, removing his shoes and socks. He then placed his feet into the warm water to soak. "Who could have known that Saturday afternoons is when little _Jackie_ takes his bubble bath. Your mamma ganna come and wash your hair?"

If possible, Jack's already furious blush deepened. Raimundo's snickering comments not making him feel anymore at ease.

"Shut-up loser! Why don't you go hang out with the rest of your loser friends! Loser …" Jack screamed, his voice still a piercing shriek. He was finding that it was hard to suitably counter a foe's taunts, when you were wet, naked and had twenty-two bottles of Mr. Bubbles sitting right behind your head.

"Let's see … Omi's practicing some rabbit eating butterfly move … Kimiko is writing more of her scary kingdom hearts fanfiction … Clay is playing with his dolls, er I mean his 'action figures' … Dojo only plays checkers, and he'll cheat and eat the pieces when your not looking … and if I asked master Fung to play with me, he'd probably give me some boring zen garbage and then make me do the dishes …" Raimundo replied, counting his friends off on a hand, while he leaned back and began to kick the water. "and since you have the golden tiger claws, I can't even go back home and play soccer with Djavan and Caio"

"So, since all your loser friends are too busy to play with you, you came to bother me!" Jack asked, raising an eyebrow, well aware that he was overusing the word 'loser' and all but praying that Raimundo would blame the hot water for his still present blush.

"Yeah … pretty much," Raimundo responded nonchalantly with a shrug.

Several long, silent, not to mention horribly awkward moments followed, as Raimundo watched Jack, and Jack internally debated with himself if he could salvage more of his pride by banishing Raimundo from his home … or if drowning himself was the sole route of escape that would let him keep his dignity intact.

"Ya know … it IS kinda hot out …" Raimundo said, when the silence went from poisonness to lethal, feverishly hoping he wasn't going to regret his impulsive plan.

"Your point loser?" Jack asked sullenly. Dying was looking more appealing by the second.

Raimundo didn't respond verbally as he pulled his feet out of the water and stood up. A second later he removed his shirt in one graceful movement, fingers then moving downward, as he began unzipping his jeans.

Jack forgot his 'suicide to save dignity plan' as he watched more and more of Raimundo's bronze form came into view. Suddenly thinking became hard, and breathing labored. He tried to pass off his still present blush by blaming Raimundo's lack of shame and nonexistent modesty. Tried to convince himself that he wasn't checking the other boy out … just admiring a build he wished he possessed. He pointedly ignored his body's instinctive reactions, which were informing him that he was enjoying this far more then he should.

Almost as if aware of Jack's internal struggle, Raimundo shot him a smirk as he pulled down his jeans. With one fluid motion he kicked them back to join the likewise discarded shirt. Raimundo couldn't make out Jack's expression through all the steam … but a loud "meep" made him think, that just maybe, the other boy was enjoying the show.

"So this is a bathtub, not a pool, huh?" Raimundo said innocently, slipping a thumb inside his plaid blue boxers, lowering them teasingly.

"Wah …! Huh! Wait! No … er, I mean yes … but …" Jack began to babble, his face burning with embarrassment, shame and lust. Flame colored eyes unable to look away.

"Pft! Psych!" Raimundo said a moment later, laughing and wishing he could see the expression on Jack's face. Still chuckling, he cannon balled into the water, and swam over to his distressed, and now near hysterical rival. Jack meanwhile tired to desperately gather more bubble around him … trying desperately to hide his form from Raimundo's prying eyes.

"You should have seen the look on your face Spicer! That was classic," Raimundo teased, smiling his conman smile, and forcibly keeping his forest green eyes above waist level. Closer inspection of Jack's face though, brought the blush forcibly to Raimundo's attention. Standing lengths away, gazing through the vapor ridden air, he'd failed to see it … but now it was a central facial feature … just like fire tinged eyes, which were staring in mute humiliation at the water.

"_Oops"_ Raimundo thought frantically, trying to think of a way to make things better. Sure he'd meant to tease Jack a little, maybe even get another girly scream out of him … but how could he have known that … really how the hell could he have known that Jack liked …

Raimundo sighed. Things had suddenly just become a lot less fun.

"_Or just maybe I can make things a lot more fun …"_ Raimundo thought impishly, his standard grin widening a little.

"So, where's your shampoo?" Raimundo asked innocently, tearing his eyes off Jack. Jack, meanwhile, stared at him in voiceless confusion as Raimundo pulled himself onto the pool's deck, upsetting Mr. Bubble bottles as he looked about for anything resembling a hair care product.

" . . . WHAT!" Jack finally managed to screech, crimson eyes darting up from the water to meet Raimundo's jungle shaded irises. Raimundo met the other boy's angry confusion with another grin and a wink. Maybe he was just imagining it, but those fiery eyes seemed to hold more then just rage and puzzlement. They seemed to be holding the barest hint of longing …

They reminded Raimundo of the unhappy time when he'd figured out that he just wasn't a ladies man. By the time Raimundo had actually allowed himself to admit that maybe … just maybe … he liked other guys, he had been sixteen years old. He'd figured it out a whole two weeks before he became a xiaolin dragon … meaning he came out just in time to be dragged away from all his adorable Brazilian buds, in order to be cloistered in a temple in the middle of nowhere with;

An easily angered girl, an obnoxious midget, and a painfully southern cowboy.

Raimundo wasn't quite sure how he'd managed this though … somehow he'd failed to notice how good the group's relentless enemy looked, especially when you saw him without all of his goth make-up.

_"… or pants," _Raimundo thought guiltily. While Jack was still pale without his cosmetics, it was a paleness that accented his blazing eyes and flaming hair, the features blending perfectly with the boy's fiery temperament. His body was thin, but toned … not nearly as frail as his girly shriek and oversized trench coat would have an onlooker believe.

And … most importantly from Raimundo's point of view, it appeared that Jack happened to like boys to boot. While this 'lady' was protesting his presence, Raimundo noticed he still hadn't been ordered to leave.

"Really dude, where's your shampoo already?" Raimundo asked, shoving bath products aside in his search for the elusive bottle, as he silently urged himself not to move to fast, least he scare the other boy away.

"Why!" Jack's voice had reached siren level, his eyes burning with suspicion.

"Duh. Because your mommy doesn't seem to be around, and someone has to wash little _Jackie's_ hair," Raimundo grinned as he finally found the necessary bottle "Score! Now get over here already,"

Confused, perturbed, and more eager to please then he liked to admit, Jack did as he was told, suspicion still predominate in his expression. He kept waiting for another 'psych!' and Raimundo's mocking laughter … so was surprised to see the monk's unusually serious expression.

Raimundo, for his part, was just glad that he had actually found the unpronounceable stuff. Flipping open the bottle, he squirted some of the murky liquid onto his hands, and was surprised to smell the pungent scent of chocolate. Raimundo couldn't help but arch an eyebrow at that. For some reason he'd expected Jack Spicer, _evil _boy genus to wear some macho scent … something that screamed of musk and dead animal … not something so … so … sensual.

As Raimundo edged forward, neither boy spoke, almost as if frightened that any sound save the "whoosh" of the water, or the quiet hum of the pool filter would break the spell … would spoil the illusion, and force them back into a reality where they were nothing but enemies.

For the first time in his life, Raimundo was glad he was the eldest of six, because it meant that he had given his fair share of bathes to his siblings. He was a veteran who had not only fought, but also won, countless battles against dirt, mud, and a variety of other sticky substances best left unknown. A warrior who had won … despite being splashed, hit, and bitten by his less then appreciative relations. So it was trained hands and deft fingers that expertly combed their way through Jack's tangled forest of flames, coating it with dark colored, but sweet smelling, lather.

Jack leaned back as far as his body would allow, living fingers invoking a sense of comfort his robotic hair-washer couldn't mimic. He almost purred as Raimundo worked his magic.

"All right, down you go," Raimundo said a while later, tapping Jack on the head. Jack allowed himself to sink down into the still comfortingly warm water, resurfacing a few seconds later, his hair free from foam, but still bearing a faint candy aroma.

Forest green eyes again met flaming irises, as both felt a keen connection to the other … some ethereal tug, some tender nudge from fate. Jack felt his blush returning, and looked away.

"So anyway, next Saturday wear some trunks and we'll play Marco Polo or something … 'k dude?" Raimundo said playfully. Before Jack could answer, Raimundo was in the water again, swimming to the other side, where he climbed back out and started gathering his clothes.

"… next Saturday?" Jack asked, still in a state of blissful utopia.

"Yea! We never do anything at the temple, so we can hang out here … 'k?" Raimundo asked, a crack in his voice betraying his nervousness, and bringing Jack swiftly back to the present. "Though you can bet I'm ganna spend all week kicking your butt and getting all the shen gong wu!"

"Heh, right loser," Jack muttered, getting a grin of his own.

Raimundo stood there for a discomfited moment, trying to slip his pants on while trying awkwardly to read Jack's expression. Jack, for his part, sank back to enjoy the role reversal. Ever since he'd walked through the door Raimundo had kept Jack at a distinct disadvantage … and Jack liked the fact that the shoe was finally on the other foot … or more aptly, that the blush was finally on the other face.

"Actually, I might be busy next Saturday," Jack called out smugly. As the words registered Raimundo's eyes stared at the floor, his mind berated him for even trying. Of course he'd done something wrong, done something stupid … and it had cost him the first boy who had ever shown even a vague interest in him. Dejectedly, he started for the door without comment, trying to numb the wound that Jack's dismissal had inflicted.

"Geez, I was kidding you loser," Jack yelled, heaving a sigh. He felt a spider touch of guilt that was immediately dispelled when Raimundo pivoted around, and gave him the biggest grin Jack had ever seen. Shinning green eyes illuminating some deep inner joy, undiluted by distance or the vapor ridden air.

"Really?" Raimundo called back.

"I'll make sure the pool's filled by noon ..." Jack stared.

"Alright! Saturday at noon, meet you here!" Raimundo interrupted, running out before Jack had a chance to change his mind.

After watching a bare-chested Raimundo depart, clothes in hand, Jack couldn't help but smile. Today hadn't been anything liked he'd planned it would be …

Deciding he'd had enough excitement for one day, Jack called for a bathbot to bring him a towel and his robe. Several moments later when nothing happened, he angrily repeated his demand. Then he caught sight of the mechanical debris still sitting at the other side of his pool. Jack let out yet another sigh. He seemed to be doing that a lot today.

Climbing out, Jack quickly found a towel and swiftly dried himself off. He then threw on his boxers, and his silk black robe, briefly considering what he still had to do today …

Obviously build new bathbots … tinker with his shen gong wu tracking device … catch a documentary at eight about the construction of tanks … and he should probably practice a little with the shroud of shadows …

He brushed all his plans off with a shrug though, as he moved over to a wall, pushing a few tiled squares in a particular order. Finishing that, part of the wall slid silently open, to reveal a hidden closet, filled with Jack's bath-time treasure horde.

Slender fingers ran over dozens of sailboats and beach balls, while crimson eyes carefully regarded a literal mound of rubber ducks, squirt guns and inflatable rafts. Running a hand through his now delightfully smooth hair, Jack idly wondered what toys Raimundo might like to play with when he came over to visit.

And though the thought came unbidden to his mind, renewing his humiliating blush … Jack couldn't help but wonder … what toys Raimundo would bring over and let him play with …

* * *

Author's notes-

…

…

In all honesty angst is my specialty area … I just really wanted to try my hand at writing a fluff piece. Some … ummmm … yeah … that's why this came about.

Anywho, real point of the author's note –

--Disclaimer. I do not, nor have I ever, and most likely never will own Xiaolin Showdown (or for that matter, Mr. Bubbles)--


End file.
